I am a trend-hog

I'm not that keen on foods becoming trends, having moments, being hip and fashionable (the fact that I just used the term: "hip and fashionable" probably disqualifies me from all such things, despite the fact that I wore a withering look whilst typing it). So how I ended up in meatliquor, a place so achingly nowthey don't appear to have connected the electricity yet, is perplexing, though not nearly as puzzling as why they don't serve their (admittedly delicious) burgers on plates.

I remarked on the relative dinginess of our surroundings to my dining companions (feeling somewhat like a hundred year old granny), and this tasteful ironic? bold pink sign did nothing to counteract the impression that any minute now a scantily clad woman would approach me, and ask if I would like a lap dance.

The reason for the low lighting became clear all too quickly. The lack of plates ensures you can't put your patty down, leading to something that looks like burger-mania in even the most delicate diner. The generous stuffing with pickles, the fact the burgers are as tall as a human face, meant that my companions and I (ladiesdelectable table manners every one) were soon reduced to little more than vampires, smashing smashing food into our faceholes, whilst fat and juices trickled down our wrists, in contempt of the carefully deployed kitchen roll that was conveniently on each table IN LIEU OF PLATES!

Meat liquor indeed.